Brother William was too feeble to do even the light, pottering
tasks that had been allotted to him, and his vague babblings
about the spirits ceased altogether. In April old Jane died,
and that put extra burdens on Athalia's capable shoulders.
"But I notice I don't get anything extra for my work, not even thanks!"
she told Lewis, sharply, and forgot to call him "Brother."
She had walked down Lonely Lake Road and stopped at his gate.
She looked thinner; her forget-me-not eyes were clouded, and there
was an impatient line about her lips, instead of the faint,
ecstatic smile which was part of her early experience.
"Yes, there's lots of work to be done," he agreed, "but when people
do it together--"
"What do you think?"--she interrupted him, her lip drooping
a little in a half-contemptuous smile--"they've heard
again from that Sister Lydia who ran away! You know
who I mean?--Brother Nathan is always talking about her.
They think she'll come back. _I_ should say good riddance!
Though of course if it's genuine repentance I'll be glad.
Only I don't think it is."
"How pleased Nathan will be!" Lewis said.
"Oh, he's pleased; he's rather too pleased for a Shaker,
it strikes me."
Lewis frowned. "There is joy in the presence of the angels,"
he reminded her, gravely.
"Angels!" she said, with a laugh; "I don't believe so much
in the angels as I did before I knew so much about them.
I understand that when this 'angel' comes back I am to give up
my room to her, if you please, because it used to be hers.
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